The Game of Life
by lordmasterkris
Summary: If you got a better title, let me know. Carl, Claude and Tommy are sent on a weird journey into some video games in an attempt to kill each other for some reason. . . Read and review, it's funny. . . Honest. (Will be chaptered)
1. What in Blue Hell?

_**A/N: **_**This is quite probably more random than my Vertical Bird story, and with me, that ****_is_ possible. The characters are all the ages they are in their games, but for some reason Tommy has a PS2. And that's not the weirdest thing.**

**um. . . **

**Enjoy!  
**

_Tommy Vercetti and Claude "Fido" "GTA3guy" Speed are sitting in Tommy's Starfish Island mansion playing GTA: San Andreas._

_Claude has the controller. Tommy__is cheering him on._

"Ha ha! This game is awesome! Make him jump off the building again!"

"Nooooooooooooo!" came the voice from the wide-screen television set.

"Claude, drive to the "S", dumb ass. You're supposed to be doing a mission."

Claude ignored Tommy's remark and continued to throw the helpless Carl off of rooftops and drive his car off of cliffs, while giggling feverishly (or smiling manically, since he can't speak).

"Alright, hand it over, it's my turn now."

Claude jerked his joysti. . .controller away from Tommy's reach and continued to play.

"You suck, Claude. It's my turn! You're not playing fair! I hate you! I hate you!"

Claude plugged his ears with his fingers, causing Tommy to scream louder.

"I HATE YOU!"

Eventually Tommy had had enough of yelling, his throat now hoarse and his eyes near to tears, so he walked off to his office to play "Hit insert name here with Heavy Things", a game he found he was playing a lot lately. Right now, the game involved his "friend" Lance.

"Hey Insert Name Here!"

"Yes, Tommy?" said Lance. "What can I do you for?"

"Don't say that."

"So, Tommy, what can I do for you?"

"Uh. . .why don't you stand at the bottom of the stair set there and face the entrance?"

"Uh. . .well. . .alright, Tommy." Lance walked quickly down the stairs with a slight skip in his step. He stopped at the bottom. "Here okay, Tommy?"

"Perfect!" said Tommy as he threw a vase squarely at the back of Lance's head.

"Ah, that hurt, Tommy!"

"Yeah, sorry I was just warming up. Stay there."

"Okay."

"Dumb bastard."

"What did you say Tommy?"

"I called you a dumb bastard."

"Oh, okay."

Lance turned around again. Tommy looked around for something to throw. His eyes had just settled on an object in his office when Lance turned back around.

"Wait, Tommy. . .why did you call me a dumb bastard?"

"Coz you are."

Lance stared silently at Tommy, a little perplexed.

"Hey, Claude," yelled Tommy, impatiently, "is Lance here a dumb bastard?"

Claude nodded.

"Well, two against one, Lance."

"I guess you're right. Hey, Tommy, why are you holding that heavy iron safe above your head?"

". . .no reason. No reason." said Tommy innocently.

"Okay, then. I'll just turn back around so we can continue the game, shall I?"

"That would be best."

The disconcerting shadow forming in front of Lance, growing in size, taking on a sort of, safe-like shape was awfully confusing for him. He turned around to ask Tommy what it was, but was unfortunately knocked out by a large safe.

How odd, thought Lance, as he passed out.

Tommy went back to join Claude. After letting his anger out on Lance, he felt calmer. He walked into the lounge area at the bottom of the stairs, as two of his tediously simple minded gangsters put Lance's body in the car and drove it to the docks where they tied him in a net, placed him in a speed boat, sailed into the middle of the ocean, tossed the body into the river, threw a grenade into the river, dismembering the body into several pieces which were conveniently eaten by a shark which was then shot.

Tommy turned round and saw Lance standing, perfectly fine, if a little disoriented, near the entrance.

The words "nice going, jackass, you made Lance die" appeared in front of him.

He was going to have to have a word with the programmers about the hurtful ways his failings were portrayed. For example:

"How the hell could you get Busted you freakin' loser?"

"You came in fifth! My grandmother can drive better than you."

And his favourite so far:

"Mission failed: FUCK HEAD!"

By now Claude had reached Sweet's house in Grove Street, Los Santos, and had walked into the coloured marker.

The mission was "Grove 4 Life", and the main character, Carl "CJ" Johnson and his brother Sean "Sweet" Johnson were to provoke gang wars with a local gang.

"Hey, Sweet, you ready to do this?" said CJ.

"Yeah I'm ready."

"Good, coz -" Carl's words were cut short as he raised his Desert Eagle and shot Sweet in the face.

"SHIT! SWEET! You alright, bro? You know I can't control myself. I'm, like, under a spell or somethin', man."

"It's alright Carl. Doesn't hurt a bit. It'll take more than that to kill me – just check out my health bar."

"Health bar?"

"Yeah, you got one too, see?" Sweet pointed to the top of the screen where Carl's health bar was located, as well as a list of his weapons and the time.

"Man, four in the morning, out pickin' off Ballas. . ."

"What's wrong, Carl?"

"Sweet, I haven't slept in nine days, man. And I've been wearing the same white vest and blue jeans since I arrived here from Liberty. Whoever is playing this game really sucks."

"At least he gave you a haircut."

"The _afro and beard_ Sweet? I look like a fuckin' roller disco DJ!"

"At least it attracts the chicks."

A young woman walked by.

"Hey, handsome." she smiled seductively.

BANG! Carl shot the young woman in the head.

"Dammit, that's it! I am gonna find the person playing this game, and I'm gonna kill him! See ya around, Sweet." Carl marched off.

"Uh. . .CJ. . .the Ballas? C. . .CJ. . .help. . . fuck."

Tommy returned from killing Lance for the second time to see Claude staring, shocked, at the screen.

"Hey, where did the guy go?"

Claude looked up from the screen, shrugged his shoulders, and returned to staring at the empty space where his character should be.

Lance spawned next to him.

"The hell?" said Lance, puzzled. "Did I die again?"

Back in San Andreas, Carl took his private jet (a Hydra he spawned in front of his house, to the amazement and death of many pedestrians) and flew it to the Truth's hotel in Angel Pine. Under a minute later (an hour in Carl's time), and well above the ground, he evacuated from his jet, and to his dismay, discovered he was minus a parachute.

Now six in the morning, the Truth opened the door to the hotel, and saw a bright light in the sky.

"Woah! No way dude! It's like a supernova. All red and shiny and -"

The explosion of the jet crash landing inches away from the Truth was heard for miles.

Fortunately, he spawned back in his hotel seconds later, badly injured, barely breathing, but happy to be alive, and ready to live life to its fullest and do everything he ever dreamed of doing.

He slouched back into his arm chair.

Meh, maybe tomorrow.

Exactly six hours later, Carl found himself outside the hospital across the street from the hotel.

His weapons were gone, and so was a hundred of his dollars, but he was happy to give it up. After all, those guys must be hella good surgeons. So far he had been shot to death, blown up, dismembered, disembowelled, run over, drowned, crushed, flattened, fallen from a plane, fallen from a cliff, fallen from a kerb (long story) and burned to death.

But always he felt good as new, exactly six hours later.

He walked across the street and was hit with some force by a Packer.

Exactly six hours later he was at the exact same point. He walked out of the hospital, and a plane randomly crashed to the ground in front of him, exploding on impact, sending him flying several feet along the road, where he was hit by another Packer.

Exactly six hours later, Carl had learned his lesson. He made sure to look both ways before crossing the road.

"Pizza man! yelled a voice. Carl ignored it and continued to walk, until out of no where, and with NO WARNING WHATSOEVER, he was HIT IN THE FACE with A PIZZA!

Six hours later he wondered how that could have killed him.

It was probably best not to think about it.

He saw a figure walking – sorry, sprinting – sorry, _tumbling_ down the hill near him. It was Sweet.

Carl's brother was badly bruised, and covered in cuts and gashes and had blood spurting out of his arm.

"Carl." he said finally, "Has anyone ever told you you were a busta?"

"Sweet! I can't believe you're alive!"

"I told ya, it'll take a lot more than two or three _dozen_ Ballas armed with AK-47s to take me down." Sweet shuddered at the thought.

Carl stood, staring at his almost dying brother. The health bar! It was almost empty! The slightest jolt could kill him!

"Sweet, we gotta get you to the hospital before you d-"

"PIZZA MAN!"

"SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" yelled Carl as a square shaped pepperoni pizza projectile sliced his brother's head clean off.

**Mission Failed: Sweet is dead.**

**Jackass.**

Aw well, no use cryin' over spilled blood. Carl started to walk off towards the Truth's hotel.

Minutes later he returned, picked up a few morsels of pizza and walked off again.

"Bless you, Sweet." he said as he ate.

He walked across the street successfully for the first time in three or more days, and opened the door to the Truth's room. There he found his hippie friend wearing bandages and a cast, holding crutches.

"Geez, Truth, what happened to you?"

"Some idiot jumped out his Hydra two days ago and it came down and landed on me! Pretty colours though."

"Uh. . ." Carl stuttered anxiously, ". . .it was probably some drugged up government official." he said hastily.

"Oh, don't get me started on the government. Bunch of no good -"

"Yeah." Carl interrupted. "Look, Truth, I need help."

"Who are you?"

"C. . .Carl. . . it's Carl."

"Oh."

"You know when you went through that phase when you thought you could see into other universes?"

"Yeah. Heh, those were good times."

"Uh. . .yeah, anyway, think you can do it again?"

"Well, of course, Carl." he lied. "But first. . ." the Truth thought for a second, "but first you have to acquire me a tank." Under his breath he added, "Nice save. There's no way he'll get a tank."

"Okay, back in a minute."

"See you then, stranger."

"T. . .Truth, it's me."

"It was a figure of speech, jackass."

"Why does everyone call me that?" Carl whined.

"Anyway, get me a tank, and I'll share my wisdom with you."

Minutes later, Carl drove a tank through the wall of Truth's one bedroom home, crushing him in the process.

Truth spawned in the chair a few feet away.

"Nice driving, idiot."

"Alright, I got your tank."

"How the hell did you get a tank in under two minutes?"

"I just did."

"Will you tell me?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No no no no no!"

"But the script says you're meant to tell me."

"I know, I'm just trying to make the story last longer."

"And how are you doing that?"

"By spouting a lot of nonsense that isn't in the slightest way relevant to the plot,therefore adding to the story's word count."

"You mean like what we're doing right now?"

"Exactly like this, but don't say "we're", it shortens it to one word. Say "We are"."

"Oh, good idea."

"Very good idea."

"Indeed."

"Oh, it looks like I've been shot again somehow."

"Well that's not good, is it?"

"Not at all."

"What's happening to you?"

"I'm dying, I'll be transported to the hospital."

"Woah, that is so cool! You're, like, all transparent!"

"See ya in six hours!" were Carl's last words before he disappeared.

The Truth waited in his chair for a while for Carl to return. He had nothing better to do anyway.

No less than eighteen hours later, Carl walked through the door. The tank still resided in the space in the wall.

"Where the hell were you?" yelled Truth, as if he was Car's mother. "I have been sitting in this chair, worried sick about you, young man!"

"Truth, I'm a big boy now, leave me alone."

"Don't you give me lip, boy. I got no problem spanking you!"

"Did you just say that?"

"Yeah, sorry, got caught up in the moment." He sat down. "What took you so long?"

"I. . .had stuff to do. . ."

"Carl, we all know you don't have any stuff to do."

"Fine. . ." Carl started to mutter. "I couldn't find your hotel."

"What was that Carl?"

"I said I couldn't find you hotel."

"It's right across from the hospital!"

"But there was a different car there this time and I got lost and ended up in the desert. . ."

"Carl, you're an idiot. How could someone like _you_ get the tank?"

"That nice man across the street was giving them away."

He pointed to a one armed man surrounded by Rhino tanks. He was standing at a small wooden stall with "Phil's army surplus and lemonade stand" written on a sign above it.

He waved at Carl.

"Well that sucks, Carl. I was expecting a story of heroism and bravery."

"What do you expect in three minutes? Now show me the gateway to other dimensions."

"Okay, Carl."

Truth led Carl to a small fence, part of which was broken away. There was a small gap in the ground under it.

"Carl," he said nervously, "I give you "Blue Hell"."

"Neat." said Carl as he jumped head first in to the hole. Seconds later he respawned on the road nearby.

He walked over to where Truth was standing.

"Well that was unimpressive. I wanted to contact the person playing the game."

"We're all playing a game, Carl. And it's called life."

"Shut up, I'm serious. Our life is a video game."

"Pfft. And they said I did too much drugs."

"I'm serious, I wanna contact the gamer. Remember you did it last summer when Sweet wanted to meet that stripper in the Pole Position in Vice City?"

"That poor girl. They never did find her legs. . ."

"Well do it again!"

"I. . .uh. . ."

"Are you trying to say you can't do it?"

"Well. . ."

"Because what kind of psycho, drugged up hippy would you be if you couldn't summon people from other dimensions?"

"That's true. . ." Truth thought for a moment. "Okay. Let's do it." He raised his arms to his face, licked his lips, and began the ritual.

Claude and Tommy, who had finally found where the game character Carl had went, watched the two talking.

Bright, hypnotic, mesmerising colours sloshed together around the screen, dancing in front of them.

Ken Rosenberg walked in and looked at the screen, then at the small packet of white powder in his hands, and back at the screen.

He threw the packet on the ground and walked away, shaking his head.

He returned minutes later to retrieve the bag, unaware that Tommy and his friend were missing.

The two men were standing next to Carl and the Truth, examining their surroundings carefully, and suspiciously.

"Great." said Tommy. "Now we're stuck in a video game."

" "We are"." corrected Carl.

"Hey! You're that guy from San Andreas!"

"That's me."

"Wow! What an honour! I've always wanted to meet you!"

"Really? Why?"

"So I could do this!"

Tommy punched Carl full force in the face causing him to fall down. He lay on the floor, a little dazed, trying to decide if he had the willpower to stand up again.

A rumbling noise behind him filled him with fear. It almost sounded like a tank engine.

Oh.

Shit.

It _is_ a tank engine.

Squish.

Truth and Tommy spoke during Carl's six hour absence, both trying to get to grips with what happened.

"Okay," said Truth, "you're telling me that I actually summoned you here from your world?"

"Looks like it. Me and my friend here -" Claude waved "- were playing GTA: San Andreas and all of a sudden we were inside the game. Aint that right, Claude?"

Claude didn't look up. He appeared to be setting things on fire.

"Ignore him." said Tommy. "Anyway, do you think you can get us home?"

"Do you mind being horribly mutated in the process. Its not unusual for my victims – I mean _clients_ – to return home with no limbs."

Tommy stared at his arms and legs.

"Well. . .I do use these a lot. . .but, what the hell. You only love once."

"Not me, I live hundreds of times."

"Me too." said Carl as he entered, bruised but healthy.

Claude raised his hand to tell everyone the same happens to him.

Truth looked at him.

"The hell is wrong with him?"

Claude threw his arm down angrily, grumbling inside his head.

"Hey CJ," said Truth, "you ever wanted to go to Vice City?"

"Not really."

"Perfect. Let's go."

"But I said -"

"I heard you."

Truth mumbled some more indecipherable mumbo jumbo. Tommy thought he could make out phrases like "leave your message after the tone BEEEP", "Polar bears really do shit in the woods," and "kill all humans."

Ah, whatever. He looked at Truth in his tattered plaid jacket, scruffy hair and bandanna, drugs piled everywhere around the room which wasn't all that pretty itself. . .

Yeah. He's trustworthy.

With a flash, they were in the lounge of Vercetti Estate, much to the surprise of the stoned Ken Rosenberg.

"Hey, everyone everyone look! Tommy's back from the dead, guys, back from the. . .guys? Aw whatever who needs em eh Tommy? You know what I mean right? So who's your friends you gotta introduce me. What a diverse bunch eh Tommy? Tommy, you got an African American guy a hippy, a quiet lookin' guy in a leather jacket and some idiot in a stupid blue Hawaiian shirt. Oh that's you Tommy. Sorry about that. Hey anyway while you're all here you wanna play Twister coz I just got this great new – oh. Oh you're gone."

In fact they had been gone from the line "who needs em". They were all up on the roof for no apparent reason.

"According to this convenient computer I have in my back pocket," said Truth, "We are in the year 1986. There appear to be numerous discrepancies, probably a result of all the cheats entered into the game by lazy players that can't be bothered to practice. The most noticeable error is Claude here, who should technically only be twelve right now. Also, the Playstation downstairs, Carl and I, and this computer. These errors seem to have had some side effects. As it turns out, you three are invincible."

"Oh. Neat." said Tommy. "That means I can do this."

He pushed Carl off the roof, impaling him on a sharp looking statue below.

"Well, not strictly invincible. . .more like when you die, you come back to life."

Seconds later Carl appeared back on the roof.

"It would also seem," Truth continued as Carl and Tommy faced off, "that we now spawn immediately after death, instead of the six hour hospital wait."

"Then that means I can do. . .THIS!" yelled Carl as he lunged at Tommy, subsequently falling off the building onto the same statue.

"This is fun, aint it Claude?" cackled Tommy.

Carl again appeared back on the roof.

"Yes, yes," said Truth philosophically, "I'm sure you all want to kill each other now. Metaphorically speaking of course. So. . .be my guest. Just remember, everyone else still dies, except us, and that includes Lance, Tommy."

"Hot damn! I'll be right back!"

Tommy ran off into the house.

The crew could hear voices faintly from inside.

"Hey, Tommy, what are you doing with that rocket launcher? Those things are dangerous, you know. You could kill yourself."

"Oh no I can't."

"Oh yes you -"

Lance's voice was brought to an end with a loud explosion, causing the building to rumble slightly. Black smoke poured out of the doorway.

Tommy materialised back next to Claude.

"Well, Lance is dead. What do you wanna do now?"

Claude tapped Tommy on his right shoulder and quickly moved to his left side. When Tommy turned round, no one was there, so he turned to his left and was shot point blank with a Colt Python.

After a few seconds his lifeless, headless corpse disintegrated and he appeared anew.

"Ha ha!" laughed Carl. "He got you there."

"Yeah he sure did."

They all laughed, until Carl got over excited and slapped Tommy.

"Oh, now you're gonna pay!"

"You gotta catch me first!" Carl giggled before running away.

"Claude," said Tommy, "how would you like to help me catch him?"

Claude shrugged off the request.

"Perfect! Let's go!"

**A/N: Okay, this story, now that I have had time to think about it, _will_ go somewhere. Eventually (in a chapter or two), the guys will start travelling through different video games, desperately trying to kill each other. Right now I'm sort of setting the scene and will write some chapters about them travelling through Vice City, before changing to a different game.**

**If you can still remember your name after reading this mind numbingly pointless story, please leave a review.**

**Oh, and thanks to Kitty Gaby for helping me develop this idea from. . .well. . .nothing. Thanks to you, there is a plot!**


	2. Runaway Donkey

**A/N: Author seems to have run out of things to say in his author's notes. . .**

**Anyway enjoy this chapter, my next formal move to defend my imaginary, pointless, _utterly worthless_ title against Actionmax. You will never take my title! I will defend it's worthlessness to my death! HAHAHAHAHA!**

**Chapter continues from the last few lines of the previous one, in case you forgot how it ended.**

**I certainly had. . .**

They all laughed, until Carl got over excited and slapped Tommy.

"Oh, now you're gonna pay!"

"You gotta catch me first!" Carl giggled before running away.

"Claude," said Tommy, "how would you like to help me catch him?"

Claude shrugged off the request.

"Perfect! Let's go!"

They ran inside. Carl was just visible, several floors down. It looked like he was falling down the stairs. Tommy ran after him, followed by a less than eager Claude who was only in it for the pleasure he got from hurting stupid people.

They ran down the fancy, red carpeted stairs, floor by floor, but gravity was on Carl's side and he proceeded to fall faster than either of them could possibly run. They exited from the stairway to the balcony of the main hallway of the Vercetti Estate to see Carl staggering around below.

Both men looked each other in the eyes, confirming they both had the same plan of action, before leaping ungracefully over the balcony onto a conveniently placed pile of gangsters.

They picked themselves up, dusted off and made for the main entrance, the way Carl had left.

The gangsters stood up together, six of them in total, and formed their usual collective group. The men seemed confused as to what had happened, but their limited vocabulary prevented them from talking about it. Except one man. . .

"Hey, guys, what the hell just happened?"

The other gangsters looked at each other, then one pulled out a gun and shot the inquisitive man.

A minute passed and the body disappeared from the floor.

The gangsters turned to each other.

"I never asked your sister out man."

The others seemed to agree, delivering several other built in catchphrases.

Outside, Tommy and Claude stood at the top of the stairs by the door of the mansion. They could see Carl, directly ahead, at the other side of the wall, laughing at them.

"Catch me!" he said playfully, before running across the road in time to me mowed down by a Perennial.

He spawned, unhurt, at the other side of the road.

He ran back in front of the Perennial, and after being killed by it again, threw the driver out and got in.

He then backed the car over its previous driver.

Repeatedly.

He waited, facing West, toward the island with the airport and waited for his pursuers to catch him.

Claude leapt from the stairs to the car below, landing heavily and falling forwards. Tommy did the same, but performed a little roll.

"That's what years of game enhancement can do, Claude."

Claude got in the glossy silver Infernus – the driver seat – and started the ignition. Tommy climbed into the passenger seat and they left the driveway to follow Carl.

Carl, in his light brown Perennial, was flicking through radio stations.

"V-rock? Crap. Wildstyle? Crap. Espantoso? Woah!

Crap."

Carl eventually settled on his radio station – Emotion 98.3 – just in time to feel the full force of Claude crashing into him.

Carl jerked forward, smashing his face on the steering wheel. Claude spun out and was facing the wrong way. He quickly put on Flash Fm and throttled after Carl while clapping his hands gleefully to "Japanese Boy".

Up ahead, at the end of the bridge, Carl was in two minds on where to turn. He didn't know Vice City, a thing he was particularly pleased about, but now it was something that could have paid off. He made the split second decision to go left.

No, right!

He threw the amazingly blocky bulk of the Perennial around the corner. As he turned, Claude continued to drive, eyes closed, with the bouncy, cheery lyrics of Flash Fm drowning out Tommy's blood curdling screams.

The force of the cars colliding was enough to throw the Perennial into the air and cause the Infernus to start leaking petrol.

As they watched in awe as Carl and his Carl defied gravity, Tommy lit up a cigarette, sending the car and its occupants up in smoke.

And fire.

Don't forget fire.

The two spawned at the side of the road, confused, searching. They saw Carl run past them breathlessly up the street.

"Aha!" yelled Tommy as he and Claude started to run.

Seeing them running towards him, Carl froze.

Then he came to a conclusion.

"RUN!" he screamed.

A few seconds later, realising it was _he_ who was supposed to run, he did so.

As he ran from the others, his cellphone rang. He took it, the technology certainly breaking several time laws, and answered. A high pitched voice bellowed down the line. "Carl, where the hell are you? You don't love me no more? Get the fuck over here before I put a cap in yo ass."

"Denise, baby, I would but I'm stuck in a video game in 1986."

"It's always with the _damn_ excuses, eh Carl! You know what, fuck you!"

Carl stared at his phone as Denise hung up on him. Ah well. He still had Michelle. He ran a few more steps, and a small black window appeared in his vision stating that he was losing weight and was now thinner. He got another call. It was Michelle. "Carl, I told you I like fat guys! You put on some weight or you won't see any more of me!"

"Dammit! Hey Tommy" Carl called behind him, "anywhere to eat around here? I gotta put on some weight."

"Sorry Carl, we don't gain or lose weight in this game. Don't age either." Tommy reduced his voice to a barely audible whisper. "I'm really sixty-five." Tommy placed his finger to his lips to ensure his secret remained. "Oh yeah, and get back here you bastard!"

"NEVER!" Carl continued to flee.

Back on the roof of Tommy's mansion, Truth stared in wonder at his hands. Was it really possible that he brought them all back into Vice City? This could be a power that would easily be dangerous in the wrong hands. He looked at his hands. "Woah. Cool."

And with that, all hope was lost.

Carl turned round to check his attackers' range. They were a few yards behind, and would have no chance to catch up if Carl hadn't collided with a mesh gate, beyond which was a basketball court. He turned to face forward, his vision ruined by fine, even, hexagonal, criss crossing wires of doom. After realising that he was not trapped, he had an idea. He looked around slyly at Claude and Tommy, getting visibly closer, frequently stopping every so many steps to take a breath.

Carl jumped upwards and held the top of the gate, before pulling his weight up and over the top, and dropping down the other side. He faced Tommy and Claude from safety behind the gate, mocking them. He assured his utmost dominance over his puny competitors – for the first time in his life he was on top.

Tommy looked at Claude, who sighed. Together, they walked around the gate, to the entrance on the other side.

Carl panicked.

And ran. Tommy entered the parked Voodoo and followed after him, leaving Claude staring at the grenade left carelessly under the basketball hoop. He picked it up, and tossed it between his hands.

Hm. Looks like someone already pulled the pin.

Tommy had determination in his eyes. A burning desire to injure Carl for complex reasons he had forgotten long ago. Reasons which, though they were slight enough to be completely and utterly disregarded, helped him hunt Carl with a passion similar to someone hunting an elephant.

He noticed Claude generate in the seat next to him out the corner of his eye.

Claude wasn't hurt, though his face was black with soot. He noticed a small shiny object on the floor of the car and bent down to pick it up.

It was the pin from the grenade.

So that's how it's going to be, eh, he thought.

Tommy looked up from his attempt to avoid eye contact with Claude and noticed they were about to drive into the sea.

"Bail out!" he screamed before opening his door and diving out onto the hard concrete pavement.

Claude shielded his eyes and prepared for the worst. Why? He cursed to himself. Why couldn't they have given me the ability to bail out of cars?

The Voodoo plunged into the ocean and Claude appeared on the land next to it.

Tommy got to his feet and they saw Carl standing at the water's edge. They walked over to him but he didn't run off.

Claude threw a rock at him. It bounced off his head, and left a mark. Carl clutched it in pain.

They walked over to him.

"You done did well to be following me guys." he sort of said. "But see you follow this!" he said before diving into the ocean, hitting a rock on the way down. He started to swim away.

"Dammit!" yelled Tommy. "We can't swim!"

Claude wasn't listening. His gaze was fixed on something else.

In the middle of the ocean, Carl laughed as he swam aimlessly around. He laughed and laughed, until it became apparent that his laugh was being drowned out by another sound, like the engine of a motorboat. He turned around to see Claude at the controls of a speedboat with Tommy in the back holding a grenade.

Tommy tossed the grenade to Carl who caught it, yelling "Marco!" before having his body blown apart. He came back into existence on the boat.

"Well," said Tommy, "I've made my point. Good game, Carl."

"So does that mean you don't want to kill me any more?"

"No. . . it means I got my revenge for whatever you did to annoy me. I still don't like you. Which is why I can do this!" said Tommy as he pushed Carl into the sea.

Carl floundered in the water merrily, mocking Tommy for his pathetic attempt to kill him. His expression soon turned upside down though, as an enormous shadow covered Carl. He gulped and turned to face a vicious looking shark, at least twice his size, teeth sharp as nails and a look that said "I haven't eaten yet."

Carl started to cry. Claude laughed. The shark moved closer to Carl, as Tommy played the theme tune from Jaws on a keyboard he found.

The shark devoured Carl whole in a single gulp. Carl, however, returned onto the boat almost as soon as the mouth had closed around him. He laughed triumphantly and held his finger up to the shark, only to realise it was apparently missing.

The shark moved closer to the boat, and rose out of the water, it's towering figure blocking the midday sun, the shadow forming an eerie silhouette.

Claude could have sworn it winked at him menacingly.

The three men drew in together in fear, immediately backing away again in realisation of this action.

Just when they thought all hope was lost, and the shark had made that first lunge, the air was filled with a high pitched, resonating, _pulsating_ sound. The shark fled in the opposite direction, the front half of the boat in his mighty jaws.

Their saviour turned out to be a small dolphin. It approached the boat and giggled dolphinly.

"Hiya!" it said. "My name's Ecco! Shouldn't you have legs?"

Tommy and Carl looked at Claude who apparently had had his legs torn off along with the ship. He quickly returned to his original form.

"Well what can we do for you, Ecco?" said Carl without the slightest thought as to how or why he was socialising with a talking Dolphin.

"Well. . .I was wondering how I ended up being transported back in time, into a completely different video game, years before I was actually created. Any ideas?"

"Sorry," said Carl. "I'm in the same predicament."

"Well," said Ecco, in a slightly aggressive tone, "I suppose I will just have to kill you then." He bared his pointed teeth.

"WHO WANTS DOLPHIN?" yelled Claude wearing a chef's apron.

Ecco immediately swam away in panic.

"Hey, Claude," said Carl, confused, "did you just speak?"

"What? No. I don't speak."

"But you're speaking right now!" said Tommy.

"Hm. . .maybe it's a glitch in the game. . .it'll wear off soon."

"Does it happen a lot?" asked Carl.

Claude looked at him.

"Claude, I'm talking to you."

Claude continued to stare.

"Maybe Truth knows what's going on." said Carl.

"What makes you think he'll know that?"

"He gives me all kinds of advice. And it's only once in a while that it won't not be not good advice."

Tommy stared at Carl, turning the riddle over in his head. The solution was simply to hit Carl with a broken piece of wood.

"Hey," said Carl after regaining consciousness, "anyone else notice we're missing half the boat and are sinking?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Ha ha. I can swim back."

"And you can carry us on your back as you go."

"Or else what?"

Tommy and Claude each pulled guns on Carl.

"Let's go."

So Carl swam all the way back to shore with Tommy on his shoulders and Claude on Tommy's shoulders. The locals of Vice City were impressed by the show. Many people gathered to watch them swim back. They laughed, they applauded, a few even threw money to them.

They reached land again. Carl's clothes were ruined and his afro was missing. They noticed it floating away in the water. Someone screamed when they found it.

They walked up to a parked car, but on the way, a small green/blue alien popped out in front of them.

"OH MY GOD!" yelled Claude. "It's Abe from Abe's Odyssey!"

"Huh?"

"It was a game! And it was great!"

"Really Claude?"

Claude said nothing, and looked like his mind had been elsewhere.

"Hello." said Abe.

"Um. . .hello?" said Tommy.

"Follow me."

"Sh. . .should we do it?" asked Carl nervously.

"C'mon." said Abe.

"H. . .hang on a minute."

Abe responded by farting and giggling manically.

"Alright let's get the hell outta here!"

They ran off, leaving Abe behind. He walked up to an elderly woman carrying her shopping.

"Follow me."

"STALKER!" yelled the woman before beating Abe repeatedly with the shopping bag.

Later, the trio arrived back at Vercetti Estate. They, along with Truth and one of Tommy's gang members stood on the roof discussing what in Blue Hell was going on.

"Well, basically," said Truth, "We have ripped a hole in logic which is allowing us, as well as other video game characters to pass through into different worlds."

"Oh." said Tommy, pretending he understood.

"Hey, Mario!" said the gangster.

"I told you for the last FUCKING time I'm not Mario!" Tommy screamed as he shot the gangster in the head four times.

"No, I think he meant him." said Carl, pointing to a small Italian man in red and blue with a moustache and a red hat running _very slowly_ up the driveway.

"Oh," muttered Tommy, staring at the dead man. "I wonder what he's chasing."

At that moment, a large monkey crash landed on the roof, picked up Claude in his enormous palm and rumbled off.

Mario appeared through Tommy's door and ran towards them, one frame at a time. Every time he took a step he leapt into the air, then landed, then leapt, then landed, and probably set a record for slowest video game character. A faint beep emitted from him with each leap. The gang watched as he leapt between them pointing at the ape still visible in the distance.

Tommy quickly pulled out his gun and shot Mario, before returning it into the holster. The whole movement took less than two seconds, and left the people on the roof in shock. Mario's cheesy theme music played for about five seconds, before the body disappeared. He reappeared in the doorway, gave Tommy the finger, then disappeared through a strange blue swirling vortex that seemed to now exist instead of the entrance to Tommy's mansion.

"Should we go through it?" asked Carl.

"We ought to get Claude first. I mean, killing you is easy, but it's just not the same without an audience."

"I agree. Let's save him."

They hopped on to Tommy's PCJ motorcycle, crossed the bridge to the Western Island and sped north along the long straight road.

"Hey, Carl," Tommy yelled over the roaring wind, "you know what happens to the passenger when the driver of a motorbike pulls a stoppie?"

"No, what?"

"THIS!" Tommy slammed on the brakes and sent Carl flying over his head, before running him into the ground with the wheels.

"That's what happens."

"Right," said Carl woozily. "I'll keep it in mind. Now let's get Claude back."

They drove on.

"Hey Carl," said Tommy, "you know what happens to the passenger on a motorbike when you pull a wheelie?"

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes!" said Tommy cheerily as he allowed Carl to fall off the back of the bike and get hit by a van.

Tommy continued to drive but Carl respawned on the back of his bike.

"Damn Carl, you just don't give up, do you? Anyway we're here." he said, bringing the bike to a hault so that Carl soared over the handlebars into a wall.

He stared in awe at the tower block, blocking the sun. It was several storeys high, stretching away into the sky.

"That's Hyman Condo, Carl." said Tommy with pride.

"You know what, Th -"

"Shut up."

"But I was -"

"I know what you were going to say. Shut up."

"But I – Woah, Tommy put the gun away, I'm sorry."

"You idiot, you can't die, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Heh, go ahead, shoot me."

Tommy fired a bullet into Carl's ribs.

"OH GOD I'M DYING! AAAGH! AAAGH! Oh, wait, No I'm not. Heh."

"C'mon, Claude went up there." sad Tommy pointing to the roof.

"But how do we get up?"

A loud roaring came from the roof. Tommy zoomed in with his sniper rifle to see the hideous ape's captor jumping up and down frantically. Windows broke, all the hanging baskets smashed to the ground (that's not strictly true, most of them hit Carl and Tommy) and all the window ledges fell, constructing a crude ramp for them to walk up.

"Let's go!" yelled Carl enthusiastically as he made for the ledges. He ran a few steps shouting for Tommy until he couldn't hear his own voice over rumbling, gaining in volume.

"CARL LOOK OUT!" yelled Tommy as a round rolling barrel rumbled into Carl, knocking him to Tommy's feet. Tommy kicked him a few times to make sure he was hurt. When satisfied, he helped him up.

"Let's go again!" yelled Tommy with mock excitement, allowing Carl to lead the way. Tommy was dragged along against his will, however, by his arm. Carl could be pretty strong when he wanted to meet a gorilla.

"Alright, I'm coming! Let go of me!" screamed Tommy.

Carl obeyed and they each continued. After passing the first bend, the familiar rumbling sound was heard again. The barrel. . .erm. . _barrelled_ towards them.

"Holy sudden incapacitation, Batman!" yelped Carl.

"Don't say that. Okay? Never."

"Sorry. Wup!"

"Wup? The hell does that m -"

The sound had been Carl diving sideways into someone's apartment seconds before the barrel hit. Other sounds uttered included the thump when he hit the polished wooden floor face first, the scream when the female apartment owner found him, the even louder, higher pitched scream as she scalded Carl with the iron, and the growling the pet Doberman made when it found him. Unfortunately, Tommy didn't hear any of this as he was occupied with rolling down the hill on a circular storage object. Carl rolled down to meet him shortly after him, his face blackened, his clothes torn and his arm missing.

"Okay, I'm only doing this one more time." he said, his arm taking shape again.

"I'll meet ya up there." said Tommy.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"The elevator."

"Hey, wait up!"

Tommy, already in the elevator, contemplated holding the door open for Carl. He dangled his finger over the "hold" button as Carl ran.

Carl pointed his head forward like a bull and charged headlong at the door. Somehow, as he neared, he formed a mental picture of the subsequent events. Of course, Tommy would hold the door until Carl got close, then let it close, leaving Carl stuck at the bottom, humiliated and saddened. Well. Not this time.

Carl literally screeched to a stop a few feet from the door and flashed a smug grin at Tommy.

"The hell are you lookin' at?"

"Oh, no, you're not gonna get me this time, you bastard."

"What?"

"I won't fall for it. You can just shut your little door and go, because I won't be made a fool of."

"Suit yourself." said Tommy, quite perplexed.

He let the door close and the elevator rumbled slowly through the floors. There was a crash and the rumbling stopped, but the door refused to open. Tommy sighed and forced the sliding door aside, confidently striding out of the doorway, right foot first. For a second it occurred to him that the floor was not solid. This thought was confirmed when he plunged over the edge of the doorway, flailing, luckily grabbing the edge as he fell.

At the bottom, Carl's smug grin disintegrated as he realised he hadn't really outsmarted Tommy. No matter. At least _he_ knew he was smarter. That's what's important. But now, he had to find a way up.

Meanwhile, the enormous Donkey. . .ape. . ._thing_ kept Claude firmly grasped under it's wing. . .arm. . . yeah.

Tommy swung back and forth from the edge of the door, attempting to gain enough momentum to elevate himself onto the edge. There was a disconcerting crack, but fortunately, Tommy's fears were put to rest when he realised it was his back. He swung up, and kicked the floor a few times. The elevator rocketed up at twenty times normal speed. Tommy felt a bit stupid now for not letting Carl on, maybe he wouldn't have been so careless if he had been present. Still, he basked in the comfort of knowing that that loser was still on the ground level. He probably hadn't even noticed Tommy was gone. This cheered Tommy up, but there was no time for laughing.

He cocked his gun.

He had a monkey to kill. It was probably devouring Claude as he spoke.

The bastard.

The rumbling ended, and everything halted. Tommy held his Colt Python ready as the door slowly slid open. He would have to be quick, otherwise he could be dessert. He always saw himself as more of a main course type of meal, but this was no time to be getting side dished. . .eh. . ._side tracked_.

The thick metal door finally revealed the rooftop and everything on it. What Tommy saw filled him with surprise, and shock.

They were playing poker.

In front of him was a green table. Sitting around it were Claude, his face buried deeply in his hand of cards, Donkey Kong, squeezed into a small red chair (he was turning blue), and Carl, trying to eat his playing cards.

"Carl," said Tommy aghast, "How the _hell_ did you get up here?"

"That nice man gave me a lift."

Tommy looked at the other end of the table at Mike Toreno. Behind him was a Hydra.

Toreno waved to Tommy heartily and returned to his hand.

"Okay, first off, Carl, is there anyone here you don't know?"

Carl peered over the edge where Ken Rosenberg was strolling idly past.

"Hey, Ken!" he yelled.

"Do I know you?"

"It's me, Carl!"

"Carl," said Toreno, " he won't know you. You won't meet him for another six years."

Carl thought about this. "I don't think he heard me." he said finally, before continuing to shout.

"Second," said Tommy again, "Hydras shouldn't even be in this time period."

"Yes, well, neither should you PS2." interrupted Toreno.

Tommy thought about life without his PS2. "Carry on." he gulped.

"Thought so."

"Yeah, and third, why isn't that monkey killing you?"

"Hm" said Donkey, standing up, the chair stuck to his ass. "That's what they all think isn't it? That I would kill the princess if Mario never saved her. All I wanted to do was play poker. But they always cut that scene out of the games."

"But you throw barrels at Mario!"

"Yeah but he deserved it."

"Why?"

"Because. . .SHUT UP!"

"Heh. Or what?"

Donkey flipped the table over, crushing Carl and Toreno, and started beating his chest and howling. He stomped over to Tommy, picked him up, and ate him.

Tommy spawned seconds later.

Donkey looked unimpressed. "Oh, so you're another one of those guys that has more than one "life"? We'll see."

He devoured Tommy again, only to have him reappear.

"Sorry, Donkey, we can't die." gloated Tommy.

"Yeah," added Carl, childishly, "you can eat us all you want. Nyah nyah nyah!"

"Okay."

Donkey picked up Carl and ate him.

He then repeated this. Tommy pulled out his gun and shot at the monkey, but had no effect.

"Well well." said the suspicious talking primate. "It looks like there will be difficulty killing me. I'll give you some time to work it out. So long."

The monkey jumped off the roof, and hit the ground, causing a dent.

"Ow! Dammit!"

He climbed into a small red go-kart, less than half his size, and sped away.

Tears swelled in Claude's eyes and he held out a crudely drawn picture of himself holding hands with Donkey. He threw it aside.

"Should we follow him?" asked Tommy.

"I had nothing else planned for today. Killing monkeys will be a change." Carl answered.

"Where do you think he went?"

"You'll find him if you go in that portal in your mansion." said Toreno.

"Oh neat."

"Anyway that's one more name for the list." said Tommy, producing a long sheet of paper. It read: Mario, Kent Paul, mom, and Donkey. Lance's name had been crossed out.

"What's that?" asked Carl.

"List of people to kill." answered Tommy, flatly.

"Well that's stupid."

"How do you spell "Johnson"?"

"J-O-H-N-S-O-N."

"Congratulations. You just made the list."

"You want a lift back to the mansion in my Hydra?" asked Toreno.

"Sure."

"Okay, but it's only a one seater so you'll all have to climb on the wings."

"Well that doesn't sound safe at all."

"C'mon, Tommy, you only live once!" laughed Carl.

"Make that infinitely, Carl, we can't die, remember?" laughed Claude.

"The hell?" said Toreno, "I thought he didn't speak. You! I thought you didn't speak."

Claude stared at him.

Toreno rubbed his eyes and shrugged it off, before allowing them onto his jet. Between the Hyman Condo and the mansion, there were very few injuries. Carl fell off twice, once into the sea, once onto a spiky tower. Claude threw up over the edge, his lunch landing on Abe who shook his fists violently, and Tommy was chopped up by a passing helicopter.

They arrived at the mansion, or crashed into it to be more precise, since Carl had been covering Toreno's eyes as he held on in fear. The explosion was impressive, but no one survived, except the three invulnerable guys who respawned. Toreno's body was vaporised.

They stared at the swirly black hole thingy covering the door.

"You ready?" said Tommy.

"Not really.

"Perfect. Let's go."


End file.
